


Missing Race

by musicalsmarvelandmore



Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2020-12-21 01:08:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21066257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicalsmarvelandmore/pseuds/musicalsmarvelandmore
Summary: During the strike, Spot can't find Race and assumes the other boy is mad at him for not showing up at first. Little does he know that Race was arrested and brought to the Refuge alongside Crutchie.





	1. Chapter 1

Spot Conlon wasn’t the king of Brooklyn for nothing. He knew that something had to be going on. He just hadn’t a clue what that actually was.

He couldn’t find Race, and all the other ‘Hattan newsies were trying to avoid him. Granted, that may have been because of his reputation, but they wouldn’t tell him where Race was, answering in only vague terms. And Spot had to talk to that other boy.

It hurt, but Spot had done what he had to do. Race had to know that, but he was sure Race was just avoiding him. All he had to do was get the other boy to talk to him, to hear him out and understand him. Race was a bit of a hothead but that was just who Race and Spot were to each other. They fought and argued, had a few unmentionable nights, but were amazing friends.

Still, what was Spot supposed to do when Race kept avoiding him? Was Racer seriously this mad about it? At some point, Spot had to put his boys first.

If Spot were anyone else, or Race was anyone but Racer, then maybe Spot would have done something different. He just wanted to drag Racer off somewhere and yell at the other boy for getting mad at him for something where Spot couldn’t act differently. Yeah, the situation might suck, but this was just what he was going to have to go through Racer’s mind.

He nodded to his second and took off towards the 'Hattan group of boys. All a little worse for wear after their fight with the bulls, but they would get through this. They had this far.

Kelly was nowhere to be found, but neither was Racer. One of the boys that Spot recognized was Albert, who Spot had seen hanging around Race a few times, and knew the boy as Race’s best friend and co-conspirator. 

Spot shot the group a glare, hoping that they would get the hint and disperse so he could force Albert to talk to him. Maybe there would be a better way, but he wasn’t thinking about such things now. This was just what he would have to do to get Race to talk to him. He was the king of Brooklyn and shouldn’t have to deal with this avoidance.

Albert caught his glare, and Spot forced himself not to look away. He was just going to handle this, to figure out what was going on and then deal with all the rest of it.

The redhead turned to one of the other boys near him, someone who looked vaguely familiar to Spot but that did not mean much. He said something before turned and walking towards Spot.

“Conlon, ain’t all you Brooklyn boys over there?” Albert asked, gesturing with a large motion. It looked off based on the times Spot had talked to Albert before, but that just went about confirming that Race really was mad at him. Spot doubted he would have ever talked with Albert if it hadn’t been for Racer. And now that Racetrack wasn’t here, that lead to all other sorts of weird things that Spot just had no clue how he was supposed to be able to handle it all.

“Where’s Race?”

Albert hesitated, his eyes flicking back and forth without making eye contact with the shorter boys. There had to be something going on here, but Spot just didn’t know how he was supposed to figure out these specifics. It was just complicated sometimes, but Spot needed to know where Race was, hopefully so he could force Race to talk to him, blow off some steam, and set things back to where they were supposed to be, outside of all the rest of this crap.

“He’s around ‘ere somewhere. Saw him earlier. Why are you looking for him?”

“None of ya’ business. If you see him, send him my way. Where d'ya see him?”

In another big gesture, Albert motioned off in one direction that seemed too general to really be helpful. “Over there. He might be looking for Jack. He is the second in command of Manhattan.”

Spot grunted in acknowledgement, deciding that Racetrack should come back later. He turned, starting to walk away before he thought of something else. “He wasn’t hurt too bad when the bulls came?”

Another pause, too long for Spot to be entirely comfortable with the answer that Albert gave. “Yeah, he’s alright. Beat up, but ain’t all of us since none of your boys showed up? He’s fine.”

There had to be something going on here that Spot just wasn’t getting. Maybe Race was lying about how fine he was? That was a Racer thing to do. He may have one of the best poker faces in cards, but that didn’t apply to everything else.

Still, he wouldn’t be satisfied until he finally got his eyes on Race. And to do that, he had to find the other boy first.


	2. Chapter 2

Racetrack Higgins just didn’t know how this had all happened. One minute, they were striking and the entire world (and the World) was in their hands. Sure, it would have been nice to have them boys from the other boroughs, ‘specially Brooklyn there. But they were fine. Manhattan didn’t need Brooklyn to fight their battles. 

And Race didn’t Spot to come to his assistance. But why didn’t he? He thought... well; it was fine. Spot made it very clear his priorities lay with Brooklyn. Racetrack just thought he counted, though he was clearly mistaken.

Besides, Manhattan (and Race) were doing fine without them. But, the next thing he knew, everything had gone to hell. He just responded. He could fight with the best of them. He could take care of himself, but some of them boys couldn’t. He would protect his brothers. Pulitzer’s thugs were bad enough, but the bulls were even worse. Of course they wasn’t gonna side with a bunch of orphan teenagers.

He had no idea where most of his brothers were. He saw Romeo get hit by the first bull and was trying to get over there. Then he was next to Albie, and then he lost the other boy in the crowd. One of the bulls landed a punch. Race saw stars for a minute, but then there was Finch, pulling him out of the way before the other boy disappeared as well. There was so much going on. Boys were running. Boys were screaming. But Race, he was just hitting everything he could. They were all going to get out. 

But no, they weren’t. Crutchie was down, screaming for Jack. But the leader wasn’t nowhere to be seen. Race wasn’t about to let his brother go to the Refuge. Race was there before, but Crutchie was too pure for that. He was scared of Snyda’, but Race was more scared of what was happening to his brother. Crutchie didn’t deserve this. So Race didn’t think. He just acted.

It wasn’t until he was already in midair before he thought it might not be the best plan. Oh well. He was Racetrack freaking Higgins. He had great instincts. He couldn’t afford time to think. He just needed to act.

He managed to collide with of the Delancey’s in his tackle, knocking the other boy to the ground. He didn’t have time to check if the other boy was down. He just needed to keep on going. Manhattan might be his heart, but he was a little Brooklyn, just enough that he knew he could handle this. Brooklyn always fought and always won. He might not be Brooklyn enough for the rest of Brooklyn to have his back, but he would come off better in this fight.

Race grabbed the back of the other Delancey’s shirt, yanking him away. He felt a little crazy. He could already feel his right eye swelling shut from that punch earlier, but hey, he was Racetrack Higgins. He was always a little crazy- one might call that his Brooklyn part. But he had fought both Delancey’s before. Sure, the stakes had never been this high, not with Crutchie lying hurt on the ground. But it was all going to be okay.

He didn’t have time for this. Crutchie needed to get out of here, and Race too. Last thing the boys needed was for the bulls to get a hold of them. But all that was left was Snyder, and Race hesitated. He wasn’t scared. He was part Brooklyn. Brooklyn didn’t get scared. But it was Snyder, so maybe Race was scared, at least a little. He still had some scars from his stay in the Refuge and his last time with Snyder. It was hard to forget something like that.

There was just nothing else for him to do but act though, so he did. He couldn’t back down now, and he was going to defend his brother. Family protects one another, and the rest of the ‘Hattan boys were definitely his brothers.

However, that moment of hesitation was too long. Even as he was cocking his fist and starting to throw it forward into the warden’s face, he knew he was too late.

Crutchie’s crutch, wielded by the Spider, was already gliding through the air, hitting Race square in the face. His hands automatically went up to his bloody nose, when something hit him in the head from behind. Race collapsed to the ground, his vision graying out, but that didn’t stop his attackers.

Feet were kicking and hands were punching and even as Race tried to regain some bearings, he knew it wasn’t going to matter none. He was by far outnumbered. If the rest of the newsies had any sense, they would have already beat it out of there. Heck, he probably should have.

But no one ever thought of Race as the sensible one for a reason. He would keep on fighting. He wasn’t about to just lie down and let them. Somehow, he caught the wrist of one of his attackers, twisting it and throwing his attacker onto the ground beside him.

Apparently, that just pissed them off even more, but that was fine. Least they were leaving Crutchie alone now. Race could take a beating. He’d been doing it his whole life, even before he hit the streets with his newfound brothers. He was more impressed that he had pissed someone off this bad without even making a comment.

Someone, his vision was still too blurry to see who, grabbed his collar, pulling the boy upwards, choking him. They pulled him straight into an incoming fist, and Race lost all sense of where he was and what was happening. He was out.

He just hoped that the rest of his brothers were okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long to post! Hopefully the next chapter will be coming sooner (much sooner if I can) that features angry Spot threatening people. Thanks for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

Plans were being set into motion to shut down The World and Spot was done.

Not with the strike. He and Brooklyn would stay with it and stick it out. They weren’t going to back down now. He was done with Race and the other boy’s apparent tantrum.  
Spot knew he had decided for Brooklyn instead of Race and Spot. He got that. But why couldn’t Race figure that one out? He was the king of Brooklyn. He had to think of his boys, especially his littles, first. If it was anything else, Spot would have been there for Race in a heartbeat. But he just couldn’t. As the king of Brooklyn, he had to take care of all of his boys. And look at what had happened to Manhattan! Little kids with slings and busted ribs and black eyes. He couldn’t let that happen to his kids.

He didn’t even need Race to figure that one out on his own! Spot would’ve explained it to him, but that damn frustrating boy was nowhere to be found!

It was bad enough that Racer hadn’t even been the one to ask for Brooklyn’s help. No, it was Jack Kelly and that new kid. Why hadn’t Race asked? He would’ve talked with Race about it, told him why he couldn’t do it and Race would believe him.

Spot was half convinced that the only reason Race wasn’t around was just because of Spot, and not just that he was mad at him. Race was never shy about showing what he felt. No, he knew that Spot would convince him with why Brooklyn wasn’t there, and Race would have to forgive him.

Still, Spot was worried. And he didn’t do worried. He just did pissed. He wanted to know that Race was okay, not busted up too bad. He needed to have Race there on his side.  
The rally was in a few hours, and while Spot should probably be helping the rest of his boys and ‘Hattan set up the theater, or talk to Jack (wherever he was) and the new kid, he wanted to find Racer and force the other boy to talk to him. There was no reason Race should be in any of the other boroughs, since messengers were sent and already returned with news of the other boroughs joining from all over.

Albert wasn’t any help, but that would not stop Spot. He didn’t know all the boys from Manhattan, but he looked over the crowd, trying to pick out those he’d seen with Race and that the other boy would mention from time to time. Albert was talking to a smaller kid, probably a few years younger than Race and Spot. Romeo, Spot thought that was it.  
As soon as he saw Race’s best friend leave, he stalked over to the smaller boy. Sure, threatening probably wasn’t the best way to get positive news about Race, but he was Spot Conlon. He honestly didn’t care anymore. He would make Race talk to him today, hopefully before the rally, but he had time. He just needed to actually make it all happen. Spot was very aware of his reputation, and he wasn’t afraid to take advantage of that fact. Race knew him better than that. But Race wasn’t here.  
The younger boy looked up at Spot, which didn’t happen too often with Spot’s height (or lack thereof). The boy bit his lip and ducked his head, like he didn’t know how to act when the King of Brooklyn approached him.

“Where’s Race?” Spot asked, glaring down.

The other boy didn’t respond right away, digging his teeth with more intensity. “Around.”

“Where’s around?”

The boy shrugged, and Spot pressed him farther. He would get answers here. “When was the last time you actually saw Racer? And where? Or is that just what Albert told ya to say?”

“Albert didn’t tell me what to say,” the boy said. Spot figured that he was just avoiding the larger issues here, like where Race was, but the boy was fidgeting and looked like he wanted to be anywhere but a part of this conversation.

“Race tell ya then? Doesn’t matter.. When and where was the last time you saw ‘im?”

The boy rocked from foot to foot, staring down to avoid eye contact. “I don’t think I’m ‘sposed to tell you.”

“Why the hell not?” Spot said, knowing his frustration sounded more like fury, and the boy flinched at his tone.

“Race’s letter said that-“

“Wait, Race’s letter? What letta’?”

The boy flinched. “I wasn’t ‘sposed to tell ya.”

“Yeah, but ya did. Where’s Race? What letta’?”

Romeo(?) dug his teeth into his lower lip even harder. “Race’s letter said not to tell ya where he is.”

Spot ignored the part where Race didn’t want him to know, for now. He needed to talk to Race, but he also needed to know what was going on first. “Why’d ‘e even have ta write a letta’ in the first place? What, he too afraid to talk ta me face ta face?”

“No, but I am,” the other boy mumbled under his breath, glancing around Spot as if hoping that one of the other ‘Hattan boys would come to his rescue. No one was coming, which Spot was privately thanks for, because he desperately needed to have Race back at his side, where the other boy belonged.

“Is ‘e hurt bad? I know ‘Hattan had a rough time in the square the oth’r day.”

The boy’s eyes didn’t stop darting back and forth, looking everywhere but at Spot. “I, uh... Race is okay? I think? I haven’t actually seen him since a little after the bulls shown up.”

“If you haven’t seen him, how are you ‘sposed to know he’s okay?”

“Specs said so! He climbed up ta the window at the Refuge and got letters from Crutchie and Racer!”

Spot felt himself stagger backwards. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn’t this. He just thought Race was mad at him, but the Refuge! Race was in the freaking Refuge?

It wasn’t Race’s first time in the Refuge. But that didn’t matter. He didn’t have the thing he has now, whatever that may be, with Race back then. They knew each other, but not like they did now. Race was gone for months, serving out his recovery in his own borough. Spot didn’t really care about Race yet, and didn’t really get it. Brooklyn didn’t end up there for the most part. However, once Race and him got to this point, there nightmares explain and Spot knew that he never wanted Racer to ever go back there.

And yet, there he was. Worse, Spot didn’t even find out about it. And it was probably his fault that Race was there in the first place.

He couldn’t anymore. Part of him wanted to know more, but he just couldn’t. It wasn’t like the boy knew anything else about Race. So he stomped off, away from the other newsies.

What the hell was he supposed to do now? Race was locked up. For all Spot knew, he could be dying, and yet there was nothing he could do about it. He didn’t know how to get to the Refuge, or check that Race was okay. Though, really, he was in the Refuge. Of course he wasn’t okay.

He didn’t know where he was going, just away. He wasn’t used to be helpless. He was the King of Brooklyn, and yet he couldn’t even do anything to help Race now. He was just stuck. No matter what else happened with the strike, Race would still be in the Refuge. He was too late to actually make a difference.

If only he brought Brooklyn to Manhattan’s side at the start...

But he couldn’t. He was out of options, but he couldn’t change what had already happened. He was just going to have to figure out something else. He couldn’t save Race from being captured. He didn’t know how to break Race out, and while typically he might resort to brute force, he’d need help to do it. And with all going on with the rally, he doubted the few Manhattan kids with the know-how would help him now.

All he could do was hope that things with the strike went well. If Race was captured because of Pulitzer and the rest, then Spot would make them pay. And when the King of Brooklyn decided to make someone pay, that meant that it would happen.

Though, to be fair, he did punch a wall a few times before he went back to work. This was going to be the best rally the whole damn city had ever seen. For Racer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mentioned- this isn't beta read. All mistakes and awful slang attempts are my own. Thank you so much for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

When Race finally woke up, he wasn’t sure where he was. He remembered striking against the World, his brothers at his side, but no other boroughs had shown. Crutchie was down. Race had tackled a Delancey. And then-

Pain flooded through him when he moved. Right. Race had gotten his ass handed to him. Maybe it was best that Brooklyn hadn’t shown up. Some of those boys would love to point out how if he was Brooklyn, he’d be able to handle himself in a fight.

Yeah, not really. Things would have gone so much better if Brooklyn had their backs. But there wasn’t anything to do about that now. That battle was over.

As he laid there, he thought. Not about where he was. He thought he knew where they would have put his unconscious body. Race just didn’t want to know for sure. And if he didn’t look around, then he could still believe that Crutchie had gotten away. He wasn’t sure about that one, but so far, it wasn’t looking good.

Race always bounced back. Whatever had happened, he’d get through it with a grin on his face. But he didn’t want to think about that now. Instead, he thought about Brooklyn.

Even though he wouldn’t be here if Brooklyn had come and Spot had his back, Race thought he got it. He knew what he was getting into. Spot was the King of Brooklyn, and protecting all of his boys, especially the littles, had to come first. Race wanted Spot at his side, but he knew that wasn’t always possible. Spot had to make the best decisions for all the Brooklyn newsies. He had to protect them.

Just like Race protected Crutchie. Spot and Race might have their thing, but their brothers would always be a priority. He didn’t know exactly what had gone down, but he was glad that he’d jumped in, even though it hadn’t worked out so well for him.

Still, Spot was not going to be happy that Race was arrested. If Spot cared as much as Race thought he did, the Brooklyn newsies would be coming to Manhattan’s aid and Spot’d figure out some way to get him out of here. Heck, if Spot cared about him at all, he’d be pissed that Race was arrested.

Except, was that what was best for Brooklyn? Once Spot learned that Race was arrested, he’d join without thinking. Race couldn’t blame him- he’d probably do the same thing. He couldn’t imagine just sitting back if it was Spot in the Refuge. But still, he didn’t want to force Spot into doing something stupid that he’d regret. He was sure the news of Manhattan striking had reached Brooklyn, especially where they got pounded by the bulls, but maybe not that Race had been arrested.

He didn’t know if Brooklyn would join the strike or not. But he didn’t want to be the only reason they did. Sure, the strike was in their best interest, but since when had Brooklyn ever done anything smart? That wasn’t the point though. What Race thought about the strike was based on what he thought. Spot needed to base whatever decision he came to on the behalf of all the Brooklyn newsies, not any emotions relating to Race’s arrest.

Still, Race didn’t want his brothers to tell Brooklyn, especially Spot. Even if Brooklyn did finally join the strike, he didn’t want to be a distraction. Spot’d need to keep his boys focused on the message and victory over Pulitzer and Hearst without Spot thinking too much of other things, including Race. And Race, well, he wouldn’t be much help to the strike now. He may not have thought about how hurt he was, but he figured even if he got out of the Refuge soon, he would still be laid up for a while. Definitely not going to be able to soak any scabs now, or stand up against the bulls.

There was a reason why he volunteered to take Midtown instead of Brooklyn in the first place. Back then, he was sure that Brooklyn was going to strike with them, but Race wanted that to be Spot’s decision and not just because Race had asked. And now, he was sure that was the right choice. He knew Spot. But he couldn’t come between Spot and his boys.

That being decided- to keep his arrest a secret from Spot- Race figured it was probably time to figure out details about his current situation. It wasn’t going to be pleasant, but hey, he was a newsie who sold at Sheepshead. He was used to dealing with unpleasant situations.

He opened his eyes again. The room was still dark, but he let his eyes adjust to see the stark concrete above him. Yep, back in the Refuge. Fantastic.

Race wanted to throw his head back against his pillow and moan dramatically, but with the way his head hurt, he figured that probably wasn’t his best choice. Huh, maybe he had shook something loose. Look at him, making smart choices over the dramatics.

He must've let a groan loose though, because the person pressed up against his right side moved. “Race? Yous awake?”

Crutchie. Apparently he hadn’t gotten out of there. But at least that meant that Race wasn’t alone, though that thought made him feel guilty. Crutchie didn’t belong in a place like this, ever. Race should be focused on that, not his own selfishness at not being alone anymore.

His lips were dry, so he licked them before responding. “Yeah. Yous ‘kay Crutch?”

The other boy moved, probably propping himself upright. Race couldn’t really tell, since every time he moved his head, a flash of pain followed. He must of gotten hit a lot harder than he thought.

“Ya ain’t looking so good Racer.”

Race forced a grin onto his face. He was ‘sposed to be protecting Crutchie, not the other way around. He didn’t need the other boy to be worried about him, ‘specially while they were both in the Refuge. “I’s fine Crutchie. Takes more than a pair of Delancey;s and some bulls to put me down.”

Crutchie, fumbling, managed to light a candle. Race flinched seeing the bruises on the younger boy’s face. So much for doing a good job protecting him. All he managed was to get himself soaked and arrested right alongside him. He had definitely failed then, so he was just going to have to make up for that now.

Still, whatever would happen now, he was going to take care of his brother.

“Yous don’t look fine Racer. You got soaked bad and have been out for a while.”

That didn’t really surprise Race. His head was hurting enough to tell him that. “Hey, it’ll be okay. We be the personal friends of the legendary Cowboy. Ya think Jack ain’t gonna come ta bust us outta here?”

Crutchie smiled at that, though it quickly faded away. “Yeah, but I don’t think yous in any condition for an escape right now.”

Race knew that. But it wasn’t him who he was worried about getting out of here as soon as possible. “We’ll worry about it later. Any of the boys drop by yet?”

Crutchie shook his head. “Are they going to?”

“Yeah, Crutch, prob’ly Specs. Ya got any paper?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Specs won’t be able ta bust us outta here, mostly just check on us, make sure we’s okay and the like. Prob’ly bring us some water, maybes a little food. Ain’t sure if you noticed, but the food here ain’t the best.”

“They haven’t brought us no food yet or else I’d have saved some for you.”

“That’s the Refuge for ya, kid. Keep prices low and kids under control by half starvin’ us. But if ya want to write a letter to Jack, Specs’ll deliver it.”

Crutchie nodded, his face drawn and severe. “Do yous wanna write a letter, Race?”

Race tried not to flinch as he pushed himself into a seated position as his entire body groaned with pain. He couldn’t let Crutchie know, so he just braced himself, biting his lip and hoping Crutchie wouldn’t catch the traces of pain. He really wasn’t feeling so good, but better him getting this badly soaked than Crutchie. He just needed to remember the important things like that.

His vision was too blurry to read Crutchie’s face, but he was just going to blame that on sitting up too suddenly and the poor lighting. “Hand me a pen Crutchie. I’s got me a letta’ to the outside ta write.”

He would make sure that Spot didn’t figure out where he was. Starting with Albert. His friend would always have his back.

Writing was made harder by the fact that the paper and pen kept dancing around before his eyes, but that was fine. He knew exactly what to write, even if it took longer than it rightfully should. Crutchie didn’t say anything, but Race was sure the other boy noticed he was struggling. Neither of them was mentioning it though. Race was fine. At least, he was going to be once he got Crutchie out of the Refuge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Self sacrificing Race is amazing. Next chapter is back to Spot, set after the rally, and reading Race's letter. Thanks for reading! Hoping the update will be here a few days on either side of the New Year.


	5. Chapter 5

Even though Spot was more concerned for Race’s health and safety than the strike, he knew he had to wait. Race was a soft spot for him, but the rally was happening first, before he could do anything to help Race. Besides, he was sure by this point too many boys knew Race was his soft spot.

After the rally, he planned on forcing ‘Hattan to show him the letter and get someone to take him to sneak in to see Racer. Sure, he could do it himself, but he wasn’t familiar with breaking into the Refuge, and getting caught would be bad. He couldn’t afford to be arrested. Race couldn’t really either, but it was too late to prevent that now.

So, he was waiting. Pretending like his mind was focused on the strike instead of the fact that Race could be taking a beating or even dying, and there was no way for Spot to know for sure. He wasn’t used to waiting, and he didn’t like it much. But this was fine, and all going to work out.

Except it didn’t, because since when did life ever work out for the newsies? Jack betrayed them.

Honestly, nothing could make Spot more pissed than that. You stand by your brothers, no matter what. And now that Race and Crutchie were in the Refuge, arrested because of the strike, well, that meant you had to stand by it to support them. Anything else was betraying them. Not only was Jack going against Racer and Crutchie, but he was betraying the rest of the Manhattan newsies, and every other kid that showed up for the rally. They had put their trust into ‘Hattan leadership, which didn’t work out, since their leader was a traitor and their second was arrested. Which wasn’t Race’s fault, but it wasn’t a good situation.

Even though Spot was pissed, he needed to find out what had happened to Race, to know the details. He needed to see Race, but he also needed to get his newsies back to Brooklyn, so that one would have to wait, for now. In the meantime, he would see Race’s letter. He needed to know. It would probably hurt, but he needed to know why Race wouldn’t trust him with the information that he had been arrested. When two people were like how Spot and Race were, both needed to know of things like that! If Race was ever hurt or sick, Spot wanted to know. And Race didn’t want him to, which honestly hurt unexpectedly. He knew that he couldn’t really be mad at Race, considering that the other boy was in the Refuge, but he couldn’t deny the fact that it stung that apparently the boy didn’t trust him enough. It really hurt. He just wanted Race out of the Refuge, safe and sound again, no matter what it might take to do. He was going to get it done, eventually.

The timing definitely wasn’t good, but he didn’t have a choice, because Spot would get to read Race’s letter. He needed to. It might not be what Race wanted, except Race wasn’t here now, which is why he needed to read it in the first place.

The Manhattan guys were all clustered together, whispering intently, like they weren’t sure what to do now that Jack had gone off the deep end. The new guy was there, but while he might know about striking, he sure didn’t get the reality of the situation. Jack wasn’t just the leader of the ‘Hattan boys, but also their brother. And now, he had decided that that just wasn’t enough and sold them out. It sucked, but that was all Jack’s fault. He should have done better by his boys. Spot wasn’t about to make the same mistake.

He lurked outside the huddle until one ‘Hattan boy saw him. Spot wasn’t sure which one, but the boy nudged Albert and pointed in his direction. Albert broke away, heading towards Spot.

He crossed his arms, glaring back at Spot as he approached. “If this is about Jack, we’s don’t want ta hear it.”

“It’s not about Jack. I know Race is in the Refuge.”

Albert’s shoulders relaxed when he heard that it wasn’t criticism about Jack. “Yeah, he’s a dumbass thinkin’ yous wouldn’t find out.”

“Can I read his letter?”

Albert shrugged, pulling a paper out of his pocket. “I’s don’t care. Take it. Now if you don’t mind, ‘Hattan has other things to deal with right now.”

His eyes flicked back to his brothers, their shoulders tight as they tried to figure out what to do now that they were without leadership. Spot snatched the paper out of the other boy’s hand. He felt the urge to do a spit shake, but with the current situation, that really didn’t seem like a good idea. As King of Brooklyn, he should only spit shake with his boys and leaders, which Manhattan didn’t have right now.

He wanted to read the letter immediately, but he shoved it in his pants pocket, keeping it until he had some privacy. Whatever the letter contained, Spot doubted that he would handle it well, and he wasn’t about to show weakness to anyone. Instead, he headed back over to the rest of Brooklyn, rounding them up for the long trek back across the bridge, made even longer than it was on the way there by Kelly’s betrayal and the overall failure of the rally. They’d have to figure out what to do next, but for now, Spot just needed to have time to finally read the stinking letter.

It took a while, after getting all his boys settled down after the rally. None of them would show their displeasure in front of the rest of the newsies from all over New York, but they would definitely express it once they got back to their own lodging house. While Spot agreed with most of what was being said, a part of him just wanted to sneak off to finally get a chance to read this damn letter. He’d wait, but still. He finally gets to hear something from Race, even if it wasn’t directed at him, and nothing’s working out to actually let him read the stupid thing.

Once everyone had settled down to sleep, Spot went into his room, or what could be mistaken for one in a place like this. It was dark, but he wasn’t waiting any longer. He had waited more than enough time already, so after lighting a candle, he pulled the letter out of his pocket and started to read.

The handwriting was awful, barely legible, but definitely Racer’s. Even on the best of days, Spot liked to tease Race for how bad his writing was, but this was even worse, the letters shaky. Spot didn’t want to know why Race wasn’t able to write normally. Sure, it could be something normal like not being able to see, but Spot doubted that. Race was in the Refuge; it was best to assume the worst case possible.

Dear Al-  
Don’t steal my cigar punk. Just cause I’s got arrested is no excuse. First thing I’ll be checking when I get out. 

Yous probably know by now, but we’s in the Refuge. I’s fine, but Crutchie’s looking a little rough. Be great if you or some of the other boys could get him outta here.

I is fine, but you know what the Refuge is like. Things ain’t good, especially since the arrest was a lot rougher than last time. Makes me think of that leg of lamb yous always dreaming about since they ain’t fed us yet. Me and Crutchie has our own bunk, right by the window. Should make things easier for when you boys end up sneaking over here. Be careful and don’t get caught. We don’t need yous in here with us.

Hope the strike is doing well. I ain’t gonna be much help now, but after what we did, the other newsies should join. Jack said Brooklyn would join if we proved ourselves, and before the bulls showed up, we was doing good and stood our ground. The others’ll come when Brooklyn does.

Speaking of Brooklyn. I know I’s over there a lot, but don’t mention it to any of them, especially Spot. I don’t want them to know I’s arrested. The strike has to come first. Trust me on this and don’t let them know where I is. Us Manhattan boys have to stand by each other first.

-Racetrack  
PS I’m serious about my cigar. I’s soak you if I find out you just as much breathed near it.

After finishing reading, Spot closed his eyes and bit his lip, taking deep harsh breaths. He wasn’t dumb. He could read between the lines. Race wasn’t fine, even though he mentioned it twice. He didn’t think he’d be able to make an escape attempt, which was why he mentioned getting Crutchie out and not the both of them. Hell, even Race referring to the arrest as rough meant that he had gotten soaked real bad.

The part about Brooklyn and Spot wasn’t as bad as he was expecting, which honestly sent a weird wave of relief through him that Race didn’t seem to blame him. But it wasn’t like that suddenly brought Race out of the Refuge. No, he was still stuck there, mostly because Manhattan hadn’t had the numbers to fend off the bulls, which was something that Spot kind of was responsible for.

He didn’t know exactly how the arrest had happened, but that may be for the best and he didn’t need to know. Eventually, probably, but now, it would only hurt. He needed to know that Race was okay first before diving into all those details.

If Spot could do whatever he wanted, he’d be on his way to the Refuge right now hoping to see his boy, but that just wasn’t possible. Sure, he might figure it out, but that wasn’t the biggest issue. With the strike going on, all of his boys were counting on him, and Spot needed to be there for them. He wanted Race at his side to do that, but winning the strike and restoring things to some order in Brooklyn needed to come first. Then he’d worry about Race.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He couldn’t imagine not worrying about Race. He wanted to visit. He knew it wouldn’t actually do anything, but he wanted to see Race with his own eyes, to know his exact condition. And while he doubted the worry would ever go away, he had to focus on making sure all the Brooklyn newsies were kept safe during the strike.

He just hoped Race would be smart for once and keep his head down to keep himself safe before Spot could rescue him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you know, Race does not keep his head down. I'm hoping to get the next chapter up soon, but probably not until 2020! Happy New Year!
> 
> I have no clue how long this will end up being, but I'm thinking around 4 more chapters? I don't plan very well so who knows? Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

Race was scared, but he would never tell Crutchie.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he had first woken up, but probably not more than a few days. He still felt awful. The fact that he hadn’t eaten yet probably hadn’t helped that. He had only been awake one time when their room was ushered out to get food. He was a little nauseous, but was going to eat before the guards started picking on Crutchie. Obviously, that wasn’t going to stand so Race had insulted them and got himself a soaking. He had to be dragged back to the room.

He was pretty sure he had a few busted ribs, but he wasn’t sure if they were from Snyder and the Delancey brothers at the strike, or a beating from the guards. It didn’t matter though. It was better than it happening to the kid. Race had never been good at keeping his mouth shut anyway. If telling a few guards they smelled like a sewer kept them away from the kid, then that was an easy choice.

Race wished that he was better at this. If he was Jack, then he would already have an escape plan for him and Crutchie to get out of there. Even though Race desperately wanted to get Crutchie out of there, he had no clue how. Hell, he had spent most of his time in the Refuge unconscious and the rest barely able to move or think without the pain coming back. But he wasn’t Jack.

He didn’t think about what was wrong. He didn’t want to know. If something was really wrong, he just hoped that he’d get out of here and get to see all his brothers and Spot first. Thinking about it, especially while stuck in the Refuge, would not stop anything. 

He thought it was all going to be okay though. Sure, there was lots of pain and definitely some broken ribs, but he thought he hurt less now than he had. Crutchie was worried, but Race didn’t know how to change that. He worried about the kid too, so that was fair.

Right now, Crutchie was sleeping while Race was awake. He might not be Jack, but he still wanted to get Crutchie out of here. The poor kid wasn’t doing so good. Race may have prevented one soaking, but Crutchie had still gotten hit a few times. Race should’ve been able to stop it. He needed to do better.

Most of the other boys were sleeping, but Race could hear a few. If he was feeling better, he’d try to start up a poker game. Sure, the guards wouldn’t like it, but it’d feel almost normal before then. When Specs had come, Race was sleeping (unconscious more like, but he didn’t need Crutchie to worry anymore than he already was), but he’d brought a deck of cards. It wasn’t Race’s, probably either Mush’s or Al’s if he had to guess. Even now, just shuffling them felt good. They reminded him of his brothers, of the world out of this place. The idea that one of his brothers was willing to give up a deck of cards for him, well, Race definitely wasn’t tearing up.

When he heard a rap on the window, he immediately looked up. He couldn’t see who was on the other side and blamed that on the bars and how dark it was.

Making his way over to the window wasn’t so easy, even ignoring the pain in his ribs as he made his way down from the top bunk. He had to crawl over Crutchie and lower himself down, trying not to wake him. He’d probably do it in a minute, but he needed a chance to plan a way to get out of here without Crutchie knowing. Most of the boys would listen to him and know how important it was to get Crutchie out of here sooner rather than later, but if Crutchie heard, he’d insist otherwise. That didn’t matter though, because Race needed to protect him first.

He definitely wasn’t in the shape for escape either, he thought grimly, as he limped towards the window, putting most of his weight on the bed frame. Luckily, they were in the bed next to the window, or else he doubted he’d be able to make it that far.

Pulling up the window to see Spot Conlon was definitely a surprise.

“Spot!” Race gasped, before quieting down, glancing backwards in hopes none of the guards heard him. “What are yous doin’ here?”

“Checkin’ on yous, Racer.”

“Well, I’s fine Spot, but how’d ya know I was in here? Not that I’s not glad ta see ya, ‘cause I am, but, ya know.”

“Yous think I wouldn’t notice yous were gone Racer? Well, I’s did, and then I threatened some of ya ‘Hattan boys before they gave it up.”

Race shrugged. “I was hopin’ ‘cause, ya know, yous have ta put Brooklyn first, and I wanted yous to make the best decision without actin’ just ‘cause yous knew I was in here.”

“Racer, I just wants to know how yous are, okay? We’s us, and even though I’s Brooklyn and you’s ‘Hattan, we need ta take care of each other. We was joining the strike anyway, and I needs to know where yous are. You could have been dead for all I knew. I’s don’t want ta be kept in the dark like that.”

A ghost of a grin flickered on Race’s face. It was just so Spot, and Race loved him for it. “I was doin’ what I thought was best, but I get it. I’s miss ya, Spot. But, how’s the strike goin’? I ain’t heard nothing about it in here.”

Spot bit his lip, somehow looking more nervous about this than he had on scolding Race for not telling him about his arrest.

“It’s goin’, Racer. All the newsies of New York came to a rally we held. Not sure what we’s doin’ now, but Brooklyn ain’t backin’ down now. Listen, Race, I’s don’t want ta get caught, but I’s come visit ya again, ‘kay? You’s need anything.”

Race shook his head, before smiling at the last second thought that popped into his head. “I loves ya, Spot. But the one thing I might need is a kiss.”

Spot grinned at that, a difference from the solemn face and the eyes that had been scanning Race as if he was trying to figure out every single injury the other boy had, how he had gotten it, and how Spot could personally fix it immediately.

“Course, Racer. You’s know who you’s are ta me. I loves ya too, even when you’s an idiot.”

Race grinned. He honestly loved the other boy so much. Sure, they hadn’t told anyone because no one needed to know, but Race was in love with Spot, and he wasn’t afraid to tell the other boy.

He limped closer to the window, Spot reached through the bars to tenderly grab Race’s hands. “Look, just keep yous head down, ‘kay? I promise, as soon as the strike is over and your ‘Hattan boys get their heads on straight, I’ll break yous and that other kid outta here. Yous just gotta take care of youself. I need yous ta be okay. Promise, a’right? I’s won’t be able ta focus on the strike when I’m worried about yous doin’ something dumb.”

Race got it, he did. He worried about Spot too, that Race’d wake up in the Refuge to find Spot beaten in the bunk beside him, or even worse, that Pulitizer’s goons had killed Spot or one of his brothers. He was worried, and Race wasn’t used to feeling helpless. He wanted to act, to stand beside his brothers. Race knew that the strike was the best thing for them to do, but he wanted to fight with them, instead of just being stuck here at the whims of guards that liked to beat up kids. 

He rubbed his thumbs over the top of Spot’s knuckles, not sure what to say next, staring into the other boy’s eyes. Race probably could have stayed there forever, looking into the eyes of the love of his life. They might be young, but the two of them were something special.

However, once again, the newsies luck came back to bite him in the ass.

He heard footsteps in the hallway and reacted instinctively, shoving Spot’s hands away. “Go! Before they catch you!”

“Be careful, Racer,” Spot hissed, before he was gone.

Race was already slamming the window shut and turning around. He would have loved to see Spot for more time, but he wouldn’t be the reason that Spot got arrested. He could take care of himself, but he knew that a part of him would have died if Spot was in here with him.

He started trying to move back towards his bunk, unsure of how he would climb up, but it ended up not mattering. As the door burst open and the room filled with light, Race was standing in the middle of the room with a guilty look on his face.

But honestly, getting to see Spot was worth the soaking he was about to get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, chapter 6 and the main couple finally actually has an interaction. Thanks for sticking with me up until now. I'm still unsure on how many chapters this will end with (conceivably when I start writing next chapter it might end), but I'll have the whole thing up before my spring semester starts and post some more Sprace angst!


	7. Chapter 7

Spot Conlon didn’t cry, but he thought he might make an exception just this once. If there was ever a time for it, that would be now.

Racer, geez. Spot didn’t know what he was supposed to do. He thought that getting to see the other boy would make him feel better, but it just made him feel so much worse. Race wasn’t okay, at all. Even without knowing the details, anyone would be able to see that.

And Spot just felt so helpless. He couldn’t break Race out of there now. He had seen Race limping over to the window, looking like every movement hurt. Race probably wouldn’t be able to get out of there unless someone carried him, which would require a lot more planning than possible in the middle of the strike.

No matter how much Spot wanted to interfere, he just couldn’t. He hadn’t been this helpless in years, when he was a little boy and went by Sean instead of Spot Conlon, the most feared newsie in Brooklyn.

Based on when he left, Race would get another soaking, and while Spot knew how strong the other boy was, he shouldn’t have to be. Spot felt like a coward. He should have stayed and protected Race, but he couldn’t. He had to be there for Brooklyn.

He punched the wall of the alley again. There might be nothing else that he could do anymore, but he would not give up on this now. It definitely sucked, there was no doubt about that. He wanted to be there for Race, to take care of him, but that wasn’t an option now, no matter how much he hated it.

If Spot let himself think just with his heart, he’d be busting Racer out of there now. If he got caught, then he got caught. But his brothers were relying on him. Hell, with Manhattan in the shape they were in with a traitor for a leader, everyone was counting on Spot. He knew that Race was too, but he couldn’t just ignore all the other newsies of New York. Race just needed to hold out a little longer.

Part of him felt guilty that he avoiding the topic of Kelly with Race, but Spot just couldn’t tell him. Race needed to be in good spirits, to get through this mostly okay, and learning that his big brother had betrayed him and the rest of his brothers wouldn’t help keep Race’s spirits up. Also, it kind of wasn’t Spot’s business. Did it affect the strike? Yes. Did it piss Spot off? Also, yes. But when it came down to it, he was Brooklyn, not Manhattan. He might be close to Race, closer than any of the other newsies could tell, but that didn’t mean he had a right to get involved in Manhattan affairs.

He also just couldn’t put anything else on Race’s shoulders right now. He had seen firsthand how damaged and hurt Race looked and Spot couldn’t imagine Race lying down and just taking it. That just wasn’t Race. Especially since Spot knew that one of his brothers was in there with him. Race would do anything to protect them, and while Spot couldn’t fault the other boy for that, he still wished that Race would take better care of himself, especially since Spot couldn’t do it for him right now.

He didn’t know if there was anything else that he could do, as he started making his way back to the bridge, and to Brooklyn. He needed to get Race out, but he needed to figure out Brooklyn’s role in the rest of the strike first, before he got distracted by anything else. And Race, by the loosest definition, would always be a distraction for Spot.

Spot wasn’t thinking about where he was going as he walked through these familiar streets, as he tried to think about other, more important issues. He always ended up getting back to Race though. The reason he knew Manhattan streets as well as he did was from walking with Race, meeting together way from their respective brothers. Wandering around the city, being who they really were with each other.

But, he must have been more distracted than he had thought, because he missed the running newsies until they were nearly bowling him over.

“Hey!” he yelled, even as the boys were running past him.

They both stopped, skidding to a halt a few paces in front of him. They were younger newsies, twelve maybe, probably Manhattan, but also shouldn’t be running around the streets in the middle of the night. Though, that really showed the mess that was ‘Hattan right now, since Spot knew that Kelly and Racer would never have let them be running around like this, especially since the bulls were always a danger.

The two newsies turned around, and Spot frowned, staring at their faces. The one of them looked almost familiar... oh wait, that was right. It was the boy he had forced to tell him about Race. Romeo, he thought the kid’s name was. He didn’t know the other boy, but assumed that he would have to be from ‘Hattan as well.

“What’cha kids doin’ out here this late?”

The boys just looked at him for a minute, both looking rather hesitant at talking to the king of Brooklyn, before the kid Spot had talked to before finally spoke up. “It’s for the strike. Jack and Davey’s come up with a plan.”

Spot frowned at them. “What plan? Why ain’t I heard nothin’ about this?”

“Ain’t yous? Why are yous in ‘Hattan if you ain’t heard about our strike effort?”

“None of yous business, kid,” Spot said, knowing that he needed to change the subject.

No one needed to know that he had been visiting Race, or what Spot and Race were to each other. That wasn’t anyone’s business, and while he knew that some newsies had suspicions, no one would say anything and Spot wasn’t going to confirm anything for them. Everyone would need to stay out of his and Race’s business. Spot might not like Kelly, but he at least tended to let Race do his own thing, including probably spending more time than he probably should across the bridge with Spot.

Both the boys took a step back, but Spot didn’t have time for that right now. He needed to head back to Brooklyn soon, before his boys missed him. “Doesn’t matter. What strike stuff now?”

“Jack an’ Davey and that reporter, they wrote a pape for the workin’ kids o’ New York, and we’s ‘sposed to distribute it. Get all the kids ta join in the strike.”

Spot scoffed. “That ain’t gonna convince Pulitzer ta stop.”

“Jack says it will! New York runs on us kids doin’ our jobs, and without us, the entire city’ll stop!”

Honestly, Spot just couldn’t see how this could work. His mind was elsewhere, but he just couldn’t deal with this right now. “Listen, I’ll take one, but I’s gotta get back. And yous should be careful, ‘specially in places like these. New York ain’t safe enough for yous two ta be runnin’ about this late.”

The boys nodded, looking seriously. “We’s gotta go though! Dunno how many of these papes we’ll have ta hand out tonight.”

Romeo pressed one into the palm of Spot’s hand, before they were both darting off into the night. Spot watched them go. There was definitely something going on in Manhattan, but he had his own things to worry about, especially his own boys and Race.

Jack had betrayed them, and Spot wasn’t about to side with his and the new kid’s brand new idea to save the city. If it worked, then hey, that’d be great, and he’d be able to focus on breaking Race out of that place sooner. But if this was just going to be another failure, like the rally, then Brooklyn had to stay out of it. Spot Conlon was just going to have to wait and watch.

Once again, Brooklyn had to wait and react. If they acted now, it could mean bad things for his boys. Things might chance later. Spot knew a lot of his boys were looking forward to busting some heads, but they were going to play this smart, thinking of protecting the littles.

He hated not doing anything, even though the logical part of him told him he had to. He really didn’t have any better options. Spot Conlon was always someone to act, and yet here he was, stuck walking back home alone while his boyfriend was probably getting soaked.

Spot would not side with Manhattan now on whatever they were doing, putting the Brooklyn boys first, but as soon as all of this strike stuff was over, he’d be across the bridge in an instant to get Racer out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not completely pleased with how this chapter turned out, but Spot being an angsty boy is always fun. It took me longer than I intended to finish this chapter, but I'm also close to the end of the fic. Now that I've thought this out, probably only another chapter or two? No promises. Again, the awful slang attempts are all my own.
> 
> Also, I finally got my sibling to watch Newsies, though I don't think they's as into it as me ha.


	8. Chapter 8

Race coughed, having a hard time trying to catch his breath. At least one of his ribs was broken, maybe more. That was what grown men kicking a boy while they were down did. It definitely sucked, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

Climbing up into the top bunk had been hell, but Race refused to let them win. He was better and stronger than this. He would have to be, to face the guards down.

If he was someone else, like Jack, then maybe he would have been able to escape. Heck, Jack would have already escaped by now, and with Crutchie at his side. But Race was himself. He’d protect Crutchie, but that wasn’t enough.

It was late morning. The rest of the boys had already returned from breakfast, but the idea of eating anything made Racer’s stomach turn, so he pretended to still be unconscious instead. Sure, he definitely needed to eat, but puking it all back up would do him more harm than good, wasting energy he didn’t have. 

Crutchie had gone though, with support. Race knew that he should be the one helping his little brother, but he was just so tired. This time, it would have to be enough. He wanted to protect Crutchie, but despite the amount of sleeping he was doing, he was just so tired all the time now.

It wasn’t good, but Race could get through it. He had taken many beatings in his life, both mouthing off as a newsie and before that, living with his father. Race had just never had to do it with one of his brothers around.

His ribs grated with every move. How was he supposed to protect Crutchie if he could hardly move?

Race was shuffling the cards. He was bored out of his mind, but he couldn’t allow him to think, because then, he’d just keep worrying. About Crutchie, getting him out of here before something terrible happened. About his brothers striking against Pulitizer and his goons. What if they got arrested or even worse, killed? And about Spot.

Spot really shouldn’t have come last night, and Race felt guilty and selfish for how thankful he was that he had come anyway. It was lonely here. He missed everything about his ordinary life, even the hard bits.

He was dozing off again, when he jolted awake by two guards bursting into the room.

“Get up,” one guard ordered the boy.

Race’s heart dropped. He may not know exactly what was happening, but it wasn’t going to be anything good.

He knew that he should obey, but honestly, he wasn’t sure if he could get out of the top bunk.

Also, he was pissed. He wasn’t just going to walk like a lamb to the slaughter. If they were going to beat him, then they could do the work.

One guard rolled his eyes, stalking over and grabbing Race’s arm, pulling him off the bed. Then he was falling.

Race hit the floor, unable to catch himself. The guard hadn’t let go of his arm. He heard a loud crack, and pain exploded.

Race didn’t know where it came from at first, but he blinked a few times, trying to figure out what had happened. His ribs hurt even more, a sharp burning. His head was throbbing. And his arm, well, it was definitely broken. He didn’t look at his arm. If he didn’t look at it, then he wouldn’t know how bad it was, right?

Race probably wouldn’t have gotten up, if it weren’t for the guards. If he had hoped that they would leave him alone, he was wrong. Each guard grabbed him on either side. Race let out a whimper as his ribs shifted. A wordless gasp when his bad arm jostled so the guard could get a better grip on his side.

He was upright, but Race wasn’t going anywhere. The guards hadn’t even given him a chance to get his feet under him before they started moving. He tried for a few seconds, but they were moving fast enough that it wasn’t worth it. 

It was still hard to force himself to stay limp. Maybe a little less painful, but it was a pride thing. He shouldn’t let anyone try to force him under their boot, but he was just so tired. It wasn’t worth the fight, and Race hated himself for thinking that. He should be better than that. By not fighting, he was letting down every single one of his brothers, especially Crutchie and Jack. Crutchie for not fighting for him. Jack because Jack would never have let them do this to him. He would have fought back.

But Race wasn’t Jack. He was exhausted and done, but he wasn’t Jack. He couldn’t escape. He had no clue how long he’d stay here, but it’d be too long.

When they got to the stairs, Race half expected them to just throw him down, but they didn’t. Dragging him down the stairs hurt, each step sending fresh waves of pain, but overall, it was probably better to his long-term health than just throwing him down.

He didn’t know why they wouldn’t, but that didn’t matter. Race had to focus on himself. Whatever it took, right?

They took him into the dining room, where all the other boys, even the ones from other rooms, were waiting. Race frowned. That didn’t make sense. He might not be thinking straight (well, he definitely wasn’t thinking straight because his head was killing him) but he had no clue what was going on.

The guards dumped him on a bench. Race kept his head down. They were in the far corner of the room, out of the way. A lot of boys were standing, since there wasn’t enough room for all of them, but they had given Race a seat. He hurt enough that they probably didn’t trust him to remain upright without assistance. It wasn’t a pleasant thought.

He raised himself up when he realized that he needed to find Crutchie. He needed to do better than this. It was his job to take care of the other boy, especially when they were both in here. 

Scanning the crowd, it took until he could actually lock eyes with Crutchie for him to calm down. Crutchie was already looking at Racer, a pinched expression on his face. Like always, Race pretended not to know why the other boy was looking at him like that. He needed to keep his head on straight.

Crutchie didn’t look any worse than he had before, but that wasn’t much of a relief. Bruised and worn wasn’t the way Race wanted any of his brothers to look. The other boy was leaning more than usual on his crutch.

Racer forced a smile onto his face, winking at the other boy. Crutchie was his little brother and Race needed to take care of him first, not the other way around.

The only somewhat funny thing about that would be that Jack would want to kill him later for thinking about Crutchie first. Not like Jack did that all the time or anyway. Or why taking care of his brothers was the reason Jack named him his second. Jack was good at that.

He zoned out, in a state almost conscious. That probably wasn’t a great sign for his head, which was painful, but he just had to deal with it.

When Race blinked again, he saw a man who looked like Teddy Roosevelt. That couldn’t be right, so Race allowed for his eyes to shut again. He was just so tired. It wasn’t like him, to be so passive, but whatever happened, happened. He’d protect Crutchie, but the weird interworkings of the Refuge? He just couldn’t care. Race was in no shape to take this opportunity to escape, so he was just going to sit there and wait.

The next thing he was fully aware of was Crutchie’s voice, more excited than worried, which was a change from the last few times Race remembered Crutchie talking to him. “C’mon Racer! We’s gotta go.”

Race opened one eye to see the younger boy’s face was bright, despite the bruising. He was pretty sure that he had missed something important.

“Was that Teddy Roosevelt?”

Crutchie’s grin said it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigh... there's going to be another chapter.
> 
> No so I wrote a last chapter from Race pov and hated it but backing it up to this point in time worked better than what I had. So Spot pov after they win the strike and reuniting happening in a chapter that likely won't be out for almost two weeks (school and midterms yay).
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me.


	9. Chapter 9

At the call of “We won!”, a loud cheer exploded from Newsies Square.

Spot wasn’t feeling it. Sure, they won the strike, and yeah, overall this should mean good things for his newsies and their future, but his heart just wasn’t with it. Because Race was still in the Refuge. How long was he going to be in there? More than that, how long was he actually going to be alive in there?

Spot wouldn’t say that he was worried. He didn’t get worried. But he was definitely more than a little concerned. And who wouldn’t be?

He personally had never been in the Refuge. Brooklyn ran itself differently, and the Refuge mostly took in boys from Manhattan.

But Spot had heard all the horror stories. He had seen Racer in there, beaten and cowed. And if anything could make Racer look like that after a few days, he didn’t want to think about what Race would look like once he got out of there.

He knew that he had told himself that he just had to get his boys through the strike, and then he could focus on Race. But how was he supposed to do that? It was just impossible. He was screwed, but it didn’t matter. Race would always be important, especially now when Spot couldn’t protect him.

He’d like to say that he knew that Race could take care of himself, but he couldn’t. Racer could be an idiot sometimes, especially since he was in there with one of his brothers. His own safety would never be a priority to Race, which might be part of the reason why Race’s safety was always one of Spot’s priorities.

He knew that he should try to focus on the now, with his boys celebrating. He couldn’t believe that they had actually won.

Something else started spreading through the crowd. Spot’s head shot up, cursing himself. He had to be better than this. What was even going on now? Whatever it was, he needed to be ready for it, and yet here he was, thinking of Race instead.

There was a wagon, making its way through the crowd into the square. He frowned. It wasn’t big enough to have goons to combat them, but he honestly had no clue what else could be in there. He knew that he would have to be ready for a fight. He already was. Spot had been on edge for days, ever since the strike started, itching for a fight, ever since he found out that Race was in the Refuge. It might not be smart, but Spot was all about action and fighting was how he could actually get this stuff out.

When the wagon stopped, Spot couldn’t really see what was going on at first. There were so many people here. It was actually impressive how many kids the Hattan newsies had gotten to come out for this. 

He started moving to the side, to get a better view. There were definite disadvantages to being short. Most of the time, it didn’t impact him, since he could still kick anyone’s ass, but it definitely made it harder to see above the heads of others. Spot wasn’t going to ever let anyone know that. He had to seem strong, with no weaknesses.

By the time he actually got into the position where he could see the cause of the commotion, he got to see one of the best things ever in his life, even though it definitely hurt.

Racetrack Higgins, making his way out of the carriage.

Sure, he couldn’t walk alone, had his brother who was in the Refuge with him helping him out, but that didn’t matter, because Race was here.

Race was here. Not in the Refuge, not being beaten, but here, getting released and being free.

Spot couldn’t get the grin off of his face even if he had tried. He never would have believed it, and while he really wasn’t sure what exactly had happened, right now, it just didn’t matter because Racer was here.

He started towards the other boy, trying not to rush too much. Just because he was excited to see Race didn’t mean that all the child laborers of New York needed to know about it. If he was hurrying, well, surely there would be another, more feasible excuse out there. But that wasn’t for him to take care of. Because Spot only had eyes for Race.

Race’s eyes were scanning the crowd, despite being as swollen as they were. He looked even worse than he had back when Spot visited at the window. If he could, he’d make everyone pay for what they had done. As it was, he couldn’t. 

He wanted to take those guards apart, but for now, he just needed to take care of his boyfriend.

All the rest of the boys were celebrating, but Spot lead Race away. He hated how much he had to support the other boy, but at least he was here. That had to count for something. And while he had to have help, at least he was walking.

They would be okay, the two of them. 

As soon as they made it a few streets away, Spot stopped the facade of simply helping Race, pulling him in for a hug. Race squeezed back.

“I’s missed ya, Spot,” the other boy muttered, his face pressed into Spot’s hair.

“I’s so glad yous here, Racer. I loves ya so damn much.”

Later, there’d be time for everything else. Race would need help cleaning up his wounds. They’d get some sleep together, probably back in Brooklyn if Spot could convince his boyfriend to spend the night with him. That shouldn’t be hard. Spot never wanted to let Race out of his sight again, at least until he was recovered. They’d have to deal with the aftermath of the strike eventually, Spot as king of Brooklyn and Race as second of Hattan.

But for right now, Spot didn’t need to worry about that, because the two of them were here, together again, as their lips found each other's in reunion. They were back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's over! Thank you so much for reading and sticking with this. I'm hoping to write and post more Sprace stories soon (I have a multi chapter fic up that I'm working on as well as four partially written one shots)!

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first work I'm posting to AO3, though I have posted fanfiction before. Also the first musical I'm writing fanfiction for, so please be gentle. Also, I can't write slang to save my life.


End file.
